The Gray House
by crysta656
Summary: It was over. Every trace of them had been removed until all that stood was a simple gray house.


Bit morose today or something. I don't know. Anyway, a little one shot. You might want to go to youtube and search for 9 Crimes. Just listen to the collaboration of melodies and voices while you read. :) Enjoy!

* * *

_Leave me out with the waste_

_This is not what I do_

_It's the wrong kind of place_

_To be thinking of you_

He watched her walk around their bedroom from where he sat on the edge of the bed. She gingerly touched the picture frames with her wand, her image slowly disappearing from photo, leaving just him in the picture. It was almost like the moment had never happened. It wouldn't be long before every trace of her was erased from their house. It was endless anguish to watch it happen.

Her jewelry was already in a small box at the bottom of one of her matching suitcases, a gift that he had bought her for their first trip to Paris. He had watched her sift through the pieces, making sure that every earring had a match, that every necklace was placed in a certain way so as not to get tangled or kinked. Her bracelets were curled tightly and bound with magic so they didn't get lost with the other pieces. She only left her ring and it was currently resting on his outstretched hand.

The sun rays, dull through the white gauzy curtains that she had picked out, were caught in the small diamond, trapped by the facets that formed it into what it was now. He was mesmerized by it. He turned the ring between his fingers and wondered how they had gotten to here.

They had always been so happy. He had loved her unconditionally.

_It's the wrong time_

_For somebody new_

_It's a small crime_

_And I got no excuse_

With every item that she packed, she felt her heart break just a bit more. With every thing that she was leaving behind, she felt her soul crack further. It was agony.

She grabbed her gray sweater out of the closet and pulled it to her chest. It still smelled like him, like them as they used to be. A tear threatened to escape from her eyes, but she held it back, although she didn't know how.

She placed the sweater next to her suitcase and used her wand to summon the rest of the her clothes into the bag. With everything in and folded to somewhat okay standards, she picked the sweater up again. She supposed that it wasn't hers anymore because it was one of his that she had stolen.

Holding it to her chest, she sat down in the vintage chair, the one he picked out at a sidewalk sale right after they had moved into the house, and inhaled the scent coming from the soft knit. Her fingers brushed over the familiar fabric and she wondered how they had gotten to this point.

They had always been so happy. She had loved him unconditionally.

_And is that alright? Yeah_

_Give my gun away when it's loaded_

_That's alright? Yeah_

_If you don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it?_

Merlin only knew how much he loved her. His eyes had followed her from the closet to the chair and watched her holding his sweater. It was his favorite. He couldn't even remember how many quidditch matches he had won while wearing it under his uniform, too many to count.

He stopped wearing it the moment she had come into his life. She was all the luck he needed.

He could still remember her sitting in the stands, next to Potter and one of the Weasley twins. Her face was red from the cold but her eyes were dancing with happiness. She had on a blue scarf and a white wool coat. Her abundant curls were blowing around her face from the blustery December wind. But she had a beautiful smile on her face and he was stunned.

After the match there was a large party at the Three Broomsticks. Potter and a couple of other Weasley boys had been talking to the Minister of Magic. She had been sitting in a corner booth, a bunch of empty whiskey glasses around her while her tiny hands were wrapped around a mug of chocolate.

He made his way through the crowd, his gaze locked on her form until he stood before her. She asked him to sit down and he said yes, not even thinking about it. She offered him a sip of her chocolate.

Her cinnamon eyes sparkled as she poured him a cup.

For him it was love at first sight.

_That alright? Yeah_

_Give my gun away when it's loaded_

_That alright? Yeah with you?_

Six years they had been together. He completed her in ways that she couldn't even fathom. Sure, he wasn't the smartest man in the world, but he made up for it in the ways that he loved her.

She looked over at him, sitting on the corner at the end of the bed, her engagement ring, so tiny in his large hand. It wasn't the most expensive ring. She knew that he hadn't even planned on asking her to marry him.

It had been their fifth Christmas together and they were shopping at Harrods, picking out gifts for her parents.

She could still remember him how content he looked as they strolled through the shop, her arm had been linked through his, her fingers slowly stroking his bicep through the heavy wool of his coat.

When they got to the register to pay, the woman in front of them wasn't able to find her wallet. She had a little girl with her who was clearly annoyed with having to wait on her mother.

She sank to her knees and looked around to make sure that no one was watching. She slipped her finger to her lips and smiled at the child. She conjured up a dancing wisp of light and watched as the child followed the curling light with obvious delight.

When the girls mother turned around, she snapped her fingers and the light disappeared. With a conspiratorial wink, the little girl grabbed her mothers hand and followed her out of the store.

As she stood up, she noticed him looking at her with a tender look on his face. He asked her to marry him in that moment and she said yes, not even having to think about it.

He had a paper clip in his pocket and he pulled it out, careful to keep it concealed in his palm. He blew into it and she heard the whispered words of a spell.

He slipped her transfigured ring onto her finger.

She vowed to love him until the end of time.

_Leave me out with the waste_

_This is not what I do_

_It's the wrong kind of place_

_To be cheating on you_

His heart tore as she sat the shirt back on the bed and levitated her bags downstairs, her following along behind them.

He didn't want to go with her. He wanted to postpone the inevitable leaving, but found he couldn't. He was like a moth to a flame when it came to her. His whole world revolved around her. She was his life.

His hands gripped the railing that ran down the stairs with bruising force. With each step they took, he knew that it was one moment closer to her walking away.

As her bags reached the door, he watched her finger the roses that were sitting on the hall table. They were still wrapped in the tissue.

He tried to apologize to her, to make her understand why he had done what he did, but she wouldn't have it. He betrayed her and as he told her the truth of it, her face had wilted just like the flowers were now.

She had gone through every emotion. Her body had been rigid in anger. She had thrown things, raged at him and then collapsed to the floor in tears. He had hurt her beyond belief. The sadness in her eyes would haunt him for the rest of his life.

One moment had destroyed the love they shared.

_It's the wrong time_

_She's pulling me through_

_It's a small crime _

_And I got no excuse_

Her hand left the flowers, not bearing to be able to touch them any longer. It hurt too much.

She felt like she couldn't breath as she looked up at him. The pain in his silvery eyes cutting through her like a blade. There wasn't anything she wouldn't give to banish what had come between them.

The truth though, was that you can't take back what has happened. That's the torment of time. It always bleeds into the future and she would always have to live with what she had done. Just as he would.

If she wanted to be honest, her betrayal was worse than his and they both knew it.

She could still remember the deep furrow of his brow as she admitted what she had done. She had felt that it was justified, but it wasn't. She had still loved him despite his betrayal and had gone ahead and done it anyway.

He screamed at her, cried at her over and over again that he loved her, that he was sorry. He cursed the other people involved and broke several glass candle holders and vases. Then he sank to the floor, his body wracked with pain as he looked at her.

She had wanted revenge and when she had it, they were broken beyond repair.

_And is that alright? Yeah_

_To give my gun away when it's loaded_

_Is that alright? Yeah_

_If you don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it_

His eyes meet hers as they stood at opposite ends of the hall. Her hand was on the door and was visibly trembling as she turned the handle.

"Stay?" He begged. His voice was ragged with unshed tears. He couldn't bare that she was about to walk out the door.

"I can't." Her voice was barely a whisper as a lone tear stroked down her cheek.

He crossed the ten steps that separated them and pulled her into his arms.

His breathing was heavy as he tightened her in his embrace. Her hair was down so it trailed over his hands. He breathed deep her scent, a mixture of green notes, persimmons and orchids, knowing that it would have to last him for the rest of his life.

Her hands clutched at his shirt as her sobs went unchecked through her body. Her tiny fingers clinging onto the feel of him. This would be the last time that she would get to touch him and she needed to remember what it felt like.

"Okay." He finally said as he pulled away from her.

"Okay." She nodded as she gave him a small smile.

He picked up her bags and took them out to the car she had borrowed from Potter. With the last one in the trunk he turned to look at her. He pulled the ring out of his pocket and with a whispered spell it transformed back into a paper clip. The metal then twisted into her name, _Hermione._

She looked at the gray house one last time. That's all it was now, just a house that had once been a home, their home. She traced her finger over the nameplate that marked it as theirs, erasing as she went. By the time she got to the end, all that remained was, _Theo._

He sat on the stairs, not caring that the door was standing wide open. His life had gone with her.

She drove off alone, not caring that her tears were blurring her sight. Her heart was left with him.

_It's a small crime _

_And I got no excuse_


End file.
